


Enjoy the Show

by coveredbyroses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Caught in the Act, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Explicit Language, F/M, Kissing, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Crush, Smut, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-20 06:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Imagine Dean waking up as you finger yourself in the motel room, but instead of saying anything, he just walks over and finishes you off himself.Inspired by this imagine: http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/70442046907/dirtyspnimagines-srry-the-text-still-say





	1. Chapter 1

You collapse to the the motel bed, fresh and clean from your shower. The hunt was a messy one. What you’d thought was going to be a simple salt and burn had turned out to be not one, but a goddamned coven of witches. You’d gotten a total of _maybe_ six hours of sleep over the course of three days and all you want to do is crash headfirst into a fucking coma.

Your eyes drift closed. It’s Dean’s turn to shower now, the sound of running water permeating through the motel wall, quickly lulling you into unconsciousness.

The abrupt click of the bathroom door opening jolts you awake. You spring up to a sitting position, rubbing your eyes with the backs of your hands until you see spots. When your vision clears, you see a wet-headed Dean bent over the foot his bed, rummaging around his duffle - he’s shirtless, grey sweats slung low on his hips.

A warm curtain drops over you at the sight of him. You’ve always had kind of a… _thing_ for him. A thing that you’ve been trying to squash for two years now. He’s a hunter. You’re a hunter. He’s _Dean Winchester_. A combination of ingredients that makes for a recipe for disaster.

You’re vaguely aware that you’re staring, blinking slow and a little wide-eyed.

“You okay?” he asks you, pulling you out of your trance, lips pulled in a lazy half-smirk.

“Huh?” you grunt, dazed.

“You’re zoned out, kid.” he chuckles.

You huff out a short laugh. “Yeah…'s been a long three days.”

He nods in agreement, pulling a white t-shirt from his bag. You watch him as he ducks into it, his stomach muscles tensing as he works his arms through the sleeves, tugging it down until skin disappears.

He drops the duffle to the floor, shuffles around to the side of the bed and pulls the covers back. You do the same, tucking the sheets up and underneath your chin as you settle into the pillow, both of you mumbling a ‘night’ as you click off your bedside lamps, cloaking the room in darkness.

**********

Your body is tired, but your mind won’t let you rest, the image of Dean shirtless and shower-damp etched into the backs of your eyelids. You surrender to the inappropriate thoughts conjured up by your restless, sleep-deprived brain.

_What would it feel like to be pressed into his warm, solid chest? His big hands all over you, squeezing, exploring…Those plush lips pressed against yours - What would he taste like?_

Your stomach clenches, pussy twitching at the visual - and _shit_ \- now you’re fucking horny. You drop your hand between your legs, over your night shorts, and sneak a peek at him in the bed next to you.

Bad idea.

It’s a little hard to see, but the glow of the motel parking lot lights filters through the curtains, bathing Dean in a dull, golden warmth. He’s laying on his belly, head turned toward the opposite wall, arms tucked underneath the pillow, covers bunched up around his hips.

You mindlessly press your hand into the apex of your thighs as you take in the real-life image of his sleeping form. Your blood heats with the pressure, your panties rapidly dampening.

_This has to be some kind of line,_ you realize. Touching yourself while you watch the object of your affections sleep. You swap places with him in your mind: You, in a deep slumber, unaware of Dean watching you as he strokes his - Fresh slick trickles from your now-throbbing cunt at the thought. _Dammit_.

Sleep is impossible at this point; you _need_ release. You reluctantly tear your gaze away from your hunting partner, releasing a heavy exhale as you blink up at the ceiling.

This is weird. You’ve never even _thought_ about doing something like this with another human being in the room with you, but you don’t see any other options. You could take care of yourself in the bathroom, but you don’t want to risk waking him. Besides, that bathroom is filthy.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you soundlessly slide your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the side of the bed - you steal a glance at Dean, taking note of the gentle rise and fall of his back.

You hold your breath, slipping your hand underneath the elastic of your panties, cupping your weeping mound. Your palm feels heavenly against you - skin pressed against skin. In your mind, it’s Dean’s hand. You imagine how much more flesh he could cover, how he could -

Your head snaps toward him as he stirs, sheets rustling as he turns to his side - back facing you. You breathe a quiet, shuddering sigh of relief as he stills.

Safe once again, you begin stroking yourself with your index, middle, and ring fingers; swiping up and down from clit to entrance, your slick easing their way. You bring your free hand up to your breast as you rub yourself, kneading the soft mound through the layers of your t-shirt and bra. The double stimulation sets every nerve ending on fire, and soon you’re layered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You still the hand between your thighs, slipping your middle finger down to your entrance, dipping inside your heat to the first knuckle. You swirl the tip around the pooled wetness there before slicking all the way inside.

_“Fuck,”_ you whisper softly into the quiet. You can’t reach very deep with just your finger, but pleasure still pulses through you at the filling sensation. You slowly slide your finger out and back in, quickly picking up a steady, pumping rhythm.

Your palm brushes against your swollen clit with every thrust of your hand, causing tingling sparks of pleasure to ping throughout your body. You bite your lip as your eyes close, brows furrowed as you feel your climax fast approaching. You release your breast to bring your hand up to your mouth where you slide two fingers between your lips, thrusting them in time with your pumping finger.

Dean’s presence lingers in the back of your mind. The fact that you’re fucking _fingering_ yourself two feet away from him - and the risk of getting caught - is so thrilling that it sends you careening towards the edge at lightning speed.

**********

Your eyes pop open when you feel a dip at the foot of the bed. You bolt up on an elbow and yank your hand from your panties, reaching over to click on the lamp -

Ice prickles along your scalp as heat floods your cheeks:

There’s Dean, one knee on the bed, hands braced mid-crawl. His eyes are wide and slow-blinking, hair mussed from sleep, lips parted into a perfect ‘O’. He looks wild and a little delirious - And for a moment you think maybe he’s sleep-walking.

Petrified, you draw your legs up to your chest, grateful for the sheet still covering you. Your pulse thunders in your ears while your mouth opens and closes, your brain struggling to form the right words.

_Shit. Say something. You have to say something._

You clear your throat, “H-Hey,” you rasp. The word sounds strained, forced. Your skin tingles with embarrassed heat, but you’re busted. Might as well practice some self-confidence.

You give him a shy smile. “You enjoying the sh-”

He cuts you off with a strangled grunt, gets his other knee up on the bed.

_What. Is. He. Doing._

And then he’s _slithering_ up the length of the bed towards you, wide shoulders rolling as he moves. You’re stuck, frozen in place. You gasp when he jerks the sheets off of you, his eyes immediately dropping to your bare legs pulled up under your chin. He gets a hand on each knee, dragging his palms over the caps, pivoting so his fingertips are pressing into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, smoothing down, down -

You hiss, hips twitching when his fingers brush against the crease between pelvis and thigh, toying with the lace of your panties there.

His face is inches from yours, pupils blown, and you can feel his warm breath fanning against your lips. You feel a little light-headed at his closeness, your mind reeling at the reality of what’s happening. What’s _finally_ happening.

Dean’s eyes flicker up to your mouth. Your lips are slightly parted, allowing your heavy, rapid breaths to escape. He imperceptibly leans in - and fireworks go off all over you as warm lips gently mold against yours. You’re barely kissing him back out of shock, but when he pulls away and swipes a thumb across your lower lip, you curl your hand around the back of his neck and pull him toward you, crashing his mouth to yours. The kiss is needy, quickly deepening as you open up for him, his tongue snaking in to lick at yours. His hands are kneading the soft flesh of your inner thighs as your lips work against each other, dangerously close to where you _really_ ache for him.

When the smoldering kiss ends, you’re both left gasping and panting, wild eyes locked onto each other. A hand leaves your left thigh to boldly slip up and underneath your panties, palm-up, calloused fingertips swiping down into your slick folds. Your belly lurches at the contact and you release a breathy whimper against his mouth.

“Shhh,” Dean breathes, stroking his fingers through your wetness. You gasp, your eyes rolling a little into your head at the fiery pressure while your fists grip the soft sheets beside you. You want so badly for him to slip a finger inside, fill you with _something_ of his, but he continues to simply rub against you, smooth and steady.

His eyes are fastened to his working hand between your legs, watching it move underneath the thin fabric of your panties. You, on the other hand - _heh_ , are glued to his mouth; the way his lips twitch as he works, the way his tongue peaks out between perfect white teeth in concentration.

Emerald eyes flick up to your own as he brushes his plump lips against yours, then licks into your gasping mouth as he simultaneously dips two fingers into your slick heat. A groan rumbles from deep in your chest as he sinks into you, your inner walls twitching and rippling at the welcomed intrusion.

You lean back against the pillow, angling your hips to give him a better reach. With his fingers snug inside you, Dean’s free hand abandons your right thigh to tug the hem of your t-shirt up and over the cups of your bra. He curses as his eyes catch on your chest, giving each breast a firm squeeze through the padding before peeling a cup down and sucking a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. You moan softly as your eyes flutter closed while he laves his tongue over the bud, quickly working it to a stiff peak, releasing it with a soft smack as he moves to your other breast.

You writhe underneath him as he works you into a frenzy, grinding down onto his motionless fingers. You feel him smirk against your skin and then he’s crooking his fingers deep, pumping a perfect rhythm in and out of your seizing cunt. You run your hands up his muscled arms, the warmth of them seeping into your palms. You find purchase on his shoulders, digging your fingertips into the firm skin underneath the fabric of his shirt.

Your mouth hangs open, choked gasps pushing from your throat as Dean speeds up his fingers, ratcheting you higher and higher. He inches his knees up between yours, spreads them so that your legs are draped over his thighs. Then he’s leaning over you, bracing himself on his left arm just beside your pillow, back bowed so he can plunge his tongue between your parted lips.

You mewl desperately into his mouth, your legs trying to close around his hand, trying to lock him in, but his splayed knees hold you firmly in place.

You whine when he suddenly stills his fingers - you were right _there!_

He shifts; you can see the muscles flex when he stiffens his arm, presses his palm hard against your clit.

And then that rigid arm is _trembling_ , causing his fingers to fucking _vibrate_ inside you.

“Oh, _shiiiiit!”_ you cry, slamming your eyes shut at the uncontrollable pleasure. Your shrieking voice is soon replaced by the lewd, wet sound of your cunt squelching from Dean’s relentless, quivering fingers.

He seals his full lips around a nipple just as you start to squeal again; the _triple_ stimulation is overwhelming and within seconds your mind goes blank and you’re coming _hard_ , squeezing rhythmically around his fingers as you jerk against him.

When you peel your eyes open, Dean’s are closed, his lips wrapped around two glistening fingers. You gape at him in awe as he hovers over you, licking and sucking the taste of you off of his skin.

His eyelids flutter open, holding your gaze as he removes his fingers and smacks his lips like he’s just finished a friggin’ jolly rancher.

Dean watches you run your hands up your sweat-slick face, raking your fingers through your damp hair as you catch your breath.

“Yes,” he says after a moment.

You knit your brows in confusion.

“Yes, what?” you ask him.

“Yes…I was enjoying the show.” He’s grinning wide.

You snort, rolling your eyes as your face breaks into an honest laugh, recalling your attempted just-got-caught-masturbating conversation.

“That was seriously fucking hot, kid.”

“I thought you were asleep,” you sheepishly confess as fresh heat flushes your cheeks.

He laughs, “I was…and then I wasn’t - I’m a light sleeper,” he winks.

You’re still giggling at that when his smile falters. He plays with the collar of your t-shirt, working his mouth like he wants to tell you something, but doesn’t know how.

“What is it?” You ask, worried.

It takes him a minute to find your eyes, but when he does, he holds on to them. “It’s just…Please tell me this wasn’t a one-time thing,” he murmurs earnestly. Your heart swells and catches in your chest at the implication, but that conversation can be dealt with in the morning. Right now you’re still thrumming with excitement, anxious to return the favor. A mischievous smirk spreads across your face,

“Well, I guess that really wouldn’t be fair,” you say. “I mean, you haven’t gotten yours yet.”

Dean flashes you a _ravenous_ smile, “Well, come on then, sugar -” He hops off of you, heading back toward his bed.

“Enjoy the show.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Dean's turn to perform...and maybe more?

Dean flops to his back, legs splayed in front of him as he throws his left hand up behind his head on the pillow while you stumble, still a bit wobbly-legged, to the foot of his bed. You make yourself comfortable, crossing your legs, tucking your bare feet up and under your thighs.

You’re a little foggy, your brain still mushy from your recent climax, but a new thrill tingles and swirls in your belly when Dean slowly trails his right hand down his chest and over her his stomach to palm at the hardened lump under his sweats.

You can feel the flush settle just underneath your skin as he hooks his fiery gaze into you. His eyes are smokey-dark from this distance, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a _sinful_ smirk as he plants his feet against the mattress to lift his ass up, tucking his thumbs into the cotton waistband, working his pants down over his hips to hug around his thighs.

His cock bobs up against his shirt-covered stomach, finally free of its confines. Your jaw drops a little, cunt clenching at the sheer _width_ of the thing. You’re not surprised really - you’d always figured he was packing, but _holy shit_. It almost looks foreboding, the angle of the lamplight casting a dark shadow along the underside of the shaft.

Dean brings a hands to his mouth, spits into it before curving the palm around the base. He licks his lower up in between ivory teeth, eyes fluttering closed as he slicks up his length.

Your own hands scratch at the flesh of your knees as he strokes himself, your cunt still thrumming with the ghost of Dean’s fingers, but it doesn’t stop the liquid heat from pooling at the juncture of your thighs.

You absently shift in your spot on the bed - bad idea. The stirring pushes the seam of your shorts right _there_ , into your still-sensitive clit.

Dean’s hand is moving faster now and he’s breathing a little harder, a little louder, his head back against the hand on his pillow.

“Hey, kid,” he grunts, eyes open again. “Wanna give a guy a hand?”

_Heh._

You uncross your legs, raising up and forward to fall on your knees, crawling your way up between his spread legs. It’s a little surreal to be doing this, to be in this position, but then this whole fucking night has been surreal.

Bracing yourself on your left hand just to the side of his waist, you stretch your right arm towards him where he immediately releases his dick to encircle your wrist, pulling it towards his mouth, where he licks four hot, fat stripes into your open palm.

You lean back to sit on your heels, bringing your saliva-slick hand to the base of his length, curling your fingers around him. Your cunt twitches as you smooth your hand up the silky flesh, twisting as you reach the tip.

You lick your lips in concentration as you work him, settling into a steady pump-and-screw rhythm.

Dean’s chest heaves with panting breaths, tiny rumbling whimpers escaping from deep in his throat. He’s rock-hard in your hand, the head an angry purply red, pre-come oozing from the slit.

You release him, raising up, off your heels to slip off your shirt, flashing him your sexiest smirk as you toss the fabric to the opposite bed. His eyes go wide, locking onto your chest.

And then you’re bending forward, ass in the air, smoothing your hands up his toned stomach as you descend on him, closing your mouth around the broad tip.

Your lips struggle to stretch around his wide girth - he’s _suffocatingly_ thick. But he feels so good, so smooth against your tongue. You gently hollow your cheeks, sucking around him as you glide your mouth back up, stopping at the rim of the crown before sinking down again.

You move slowly, carefully, relishing every inch of salty flesh in your mouth.

Dean grunts when you pick up the pace, keeping your lips tightly suctioned around him as you move.

The muscles under your fingertips tense as he raises up to lean on his elbows. You can feel his gaze piercing into you, prompting you to work him harder, to work him faster.

And then he’s making a low choking sound, jerking his hips back, slipping out of your mouth. He gets a steely grip around the base of his cock, squeezing the life out of his impending climax.

You’re left frozen in your spot as he settles into a sitting position. You mimic him, falling back to your ass he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re good at that.”

A shy smile twitches at your mouth. “Then why’d ya stop me?”

He cracks a lop-sided smile, “‘Cause I don’t wanna come in your mouth.”

He says the words slowly through hooded eyes and you blink at him. Did he think you wouldn’t want him to -

Oh… _OH_

A wave of desire rolls through your middle, and then you’re _launching_ yourself towards him, scrambling to straddle his lap, pinning his cock between you.

Your mouth clumsily finds his, claiming his lips with a sucking, biting pressure. You smooth your hands up and over his broad shoulders, catching his warmth in your palms - smiling against his mouth as his hands go straight for the clasp of your bra, unhooking the band and guiding the straps down your arms before tossing the garment aside to be forgotten somewhere in the room.

He gathers your breasts in his big hands, squeezing them before bending down to lick each nipple into his mouth. You throw your head back, gasping at the wet heat of his laving tongue, curving your hands around the back of his neck to hold him to you as he rolls the wet muscle over and over the ruddy peaks.

Dean pulls away after several seconds to gently blow against your slick flesh, pebbling the areolae before palming over them again.

His hands feel spectacular, but you need to feel _him_ \- to finally feel what it’s like to be pressed against him, skin-to-skin.

You drag your hands down over his chest and stomach, fitting your fingers underneath the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up. He releases your breasts to take over, grabbing the back of the collar to pull it up and over his head, tossing it behind him.

You waste no time in running your hands down and across the smooth, firm skin before hooking your arms around his neck, pulling his mouth back to yours as you crush your chest to his.

The warmth of Dean’s skin feels _divine_ against your sensitive nipples, sending tingling shocks straight to your swelling clit. His cock brushes against your stomach as you move against him, spurring you to roll your hips against his. Dean grunts at the friction, breaking the kiss to tap at your left thigh, prompting you to slide off of him.

You roll to his original place on the bed, settling back against the pillow where you lift your ass off the mattress, ridding yourself of your shorts and panties while Dean falls to his back, working his own pants down and off his muscled legs.

It’s beyond thrilling to finally be unashamedly nude in his presence, the cool motel air refreshing against your heated skin.

Dean’s mossy eyes catch on yours as he slides up your body, holding his weight off of you with a forearm beside each ear. You instinctively draw your legs up to wrap around his lower back, like you’ve done this a million times.

He smirks down at you behind hooded eyes, “Someone’s eager.”

“I know,” you giggle. “And I’ve come once already.”

You run your hands up his bulky arms, “Just want more,” you groan.

You can actually _see_ the want flash across his eyes just before he ducks his head to lick at your lips, delving in deep when you open up for him.

When he pulls away, your lower lip is still caught between his teeth, where he gives it a gentle but firm nibble before releasing the pillowy flesh.

The head of Dean’s cock nudges against your drenched folds, wordlessly seeking entrance. You tighten your calves around his back and shift your hips, angling so that the tip slips inside.

You curve your hands around to slide across and and down the smooth planes of his back, digging your rounded nails into the skin as he pushes into you. Your jaw drops, thighs tensing at the slow stretch and he stills, allowing your walls to accommodate him. He waits a good five seconds before continuing, releasing a breathy moan as he flexes his hips, sinking into your heat.

It’s an eternity before he finally hits home, balls nestled against your ass. Dean grunts as you clench around him, your inner muscles locking the fullness inside.

And then he’s sliding back, slowly gliding out of you until only the broad head is dipped inside your entrance. You groan deep when he smoothly slicks in again, burying himself in one fluid stroke.

You watch his face as he fucks into you; brows knitted, eyes struggling to focus, to not roll back in his skull. His lips are parted, shadowed jaw clenching and relaxing in time with his rolling hips.

Well-trained muscles flex under your calves as he moves, and _god_ , he feels so good, so fucking _perfect_.

His pace quickens with every advance into your wet channel - long, smooth strokes that threaten to take your breath away.

He’s steadily pounding into you now, your body rocking with his. Your fingers slip through the building sweat coating his back, so you hook your arms underneath his burly shoulders.

You’re moaning freely with every powerful thrust as he grunts and pants against your open mouth.

You bring a hand down to rub at your clit, the pressure of your fingers pushing you higher and higher until suddenly a bigger hand is knocking yours out of the way to take over - thick fingertips pushing and rubbing hard, over and over.

You want to come so _bad_ , but you’re purposely denying yourself because you don’t want this to end. You feel so fucking _good_ , your entire body set on vibrate.

“C’mon, baby,” Dean’s thick voice breaks you out of your lusty fog.

“Just let go for me.” You’d never thought it possible to climax at someone’s words, someone’s _voice_ \- but you’re fucking doing it right now, spasming around the thick girth jack-hammering into you, hips jerking against his slick, massive body.

And then - oh fuck _yes_ \- then he’s coming, choking gasps into your ear as he floods your belly with liquid heat. You can feel him pulsing into your sensitive cunt and you’re not sure if you’re experiencing strong aftershocks or if you’re fucking coming _again_.

He slumps onto your smaller frame, crushing you with flesh and muscle, but it’s good. Yeah, you could die happy just like this.

“Oh shit - sorry,” Dean groans as he rolls off of you, pulling you with him.

He’s still deep inside you as he strokes your sweat-slick hair out of your face. You brush your hand across his stubbled jaw as you wait for your heart and your breathing to settle.

“ _Damn_ ,” you breathe. He smiles dazedly as he blinks at you.

“Mmm,” he acknowledges. “Hey - next time you need to get off, you just me know, kay?”

You snort, “Thought you liked the show.”

“Oh, I did - just liked the sex better.”

You roll your eyes and smile, nuzzling into his damp neck. “Me too,” you whisper.

“Me too.”


End file.
